


In Search of the Right Ingredients

by Leela



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bath Sex, Community: snapelyholidays, Epistolary, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-13
Updated: 2011-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-15 15:38:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>About a year after the war, the dragon preserve begins to receive owl orders for some particularly odd and difficult to collect dragon-sourced ingredients from a cantankerous Potioneer in Amsterdam. Dealing with the man, even if only by owl post, reminds Charlie of the lover he lost to the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Search of the Right Ingredients

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chazpure](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=chazpure).



> My thanks to my betas angela_snape and r_grayjoy, and to eeyore9990 who encouraged me and helped me turn a vague idea into a story. Written for chazpure for Snapely Holidays 2010. This story took a small step to the left from her original prompt.

" _Futu-i_!" Bogdan Macek limped into Charlie's office and slammed a sheaf of parchment down on his desk. "Now you back, you handle this—" Bogdan spat out a rapid series of curse words in Romanian.

"Hullo, Bogdan. I missed you, too." Smoothing out the top letter, Charlie squinted at the wavery, cramped writing.

"Inferior ingredients, the piece of shit accuses _me_." Bogdan's nostrils flared, and he thumped his own chest. "Eight orders. Three he sends back. Claims our dragons produce unacceptable. Calls me cheat!"

Charlie waited out another stream of curses, doing his best to suppress the grin that was tugging at the corners of his mouth. Damn, but it was good to be home from England. A year was far too long to be away, even if his family had needed him after Voldemort's defeat. When Bogdan slowed down, Charlie started talking, "No problem. I'll write back to him and arrange—"

"Death?" interrupted Bogdan, a hopeful gleam in his eye.

"Not quite." Charlie grinned at him and relaxed back into his chair, the letter still in his hand. "I've just come from meeting with Tomas, and he wants to increase the potions ingredients side of the business. The recent war cost us several of our more generous donors." An image of the blood-spattered Shrieking Shack rose up in Charlie's mind, and he had to blink it away.

In the pause, Bogdan placed a glass with an inch or so of clear liquid in front of Charlie. "Toast, yes? For those you save and lose."

The homemade vodka burned down Charlie's throat with a familiarity that almost made him choke. When he'd stopped coughing, Bogdan refilled their glasses, and they settled in to get drunk. The orders for potions ingredients could wait.

/\~~/\

 _17 May 1999_

 _Supply Master Macek,_

 _Perhaps you are merely incompetent, rather than an utter cretin. However, as I am neither of those things, cease sending me substandard and unacceptable replacements for the ingredients that I request. If the Romanian Dragon Research Centre and Reserve cannot fulfil my orders, do me the courtesy of letting me know so I may take my business elsewhere._

 _With this letter, I am returning the four dragon heartstrings you included in my last order. I recommend that you learn the difference between a common Welsh Green and a Romanian Longhorn since you seem incapable of telling them apart._

 _Once you have completed your education (with rather more than a T for your troubles, I would hope), please fulfil the enclosed order._

 _Auroleus Hipworth  
Potioneer  
Uilbus 69, Magische Postkantoor  
Amsterdam_

/\~~/\

One glance at the heartstrings was all Charlie had needed to confirm that Hipworth was right. The thick, short threads produced by the Welsh Greens bore no resemblance to the fine twisted pairs that came from Longhorns.

Like many dragon keepers, Bogdan had no respect for those who purchased dragon parts no matter how much money they brought the reserve. Bogdan had dismissed the concerns with a shrug and a sneered, "Is dragon heartstring. What difference which dragon is moulting?"

Charlie pulled over the ledger and flipped through the pages, verifying the transactions that Bogdan had conducted in Charlie's absence. The diminishing numbers were discouraging. If Charlie was reading the ledger correctly, the reserve had lost three major customers in the past year and several smaller ones. Even worse, a towering stack of letters and complaints needed to be handled.

It really wasn't any wonder that Director Lupescu had written to Charlie so many times, asking him to return early from his leave. If he'd actually explained what was going on, Charlie might have done it. After all, he hadn't had anyone except his family to keep him in England.

At that dismal thought, Charlie bowed his head and reached around to massage the tense and aching muscles in the back of his neck. They'd made no promises, he reminded himself. In fact, Snape had insisted on keeping their relationship secret. At least he'd given up on the idea of keeping it to a casual liaison relatively quickly.

A snort of disbelief escaped from Charlie. He still didn't know what Snape had been thinking. From the minute they'd given in to the attraction rising between them — near the dragon pens set up in the Forbidden Forest no less — there hadn't been anything remotely casual between them.

"I don't have time for this," he muttered, reaching for a clean sheet of parchment and a quill. He couldn't afford to hold Hipworth responsible for the fact that his obnoxious attitude reminded Charlie of Snape. Hell, Charlie thought, he'd be damned if he was going to wallow in the past so much that he lost the dragon reserve as well.

/\~~/\

"I wouldn't if I were you," Charlie cautioned the wizard who had one foot on the lowest rung of the fence surrounding the enclosure they'd erected in the Forbidden Forest. "Dragons don't sleep that soundly, especially nesting mothers."

"And, I assume, you've counted the eggs," Severus Snape drawled. "Wouldn't want them to disappear before the first task, would we?"

"Good to know that I don't need to warn you off."

"I wouldn't say that."

Before Charlie could respond, Snape floated upwards to stand on top of the fence, his arms crossed over his chest and his feet balanced shoulder-width apart on the thick plank. A rumbling noise from inside the enclosure shook Charlie out of the envious daze that watching Snape fly had caused. He hadn't even known that kind of magic was possible.

"Get down," Charlie ordered.

Snape ignored him.

Seeing no other alternative, Charlie triggered the Ladder Charm they built into every dragon enclosure and climbed up to join him.

The four dragons were curled protectively around their eggs, exhaling wisps of smoke with every breath. Light from the watch fires gleamed off their scales. Dark shadows moved around them as the dragon keepers guarded their charges.

"You've done well, Mr Weasley." Snape gave him a curt nod and flew to the ground.

"You're not so bad yourself," Charlie whispered. He watched Snape until he'd left the clearing before turning back to the familiar comfort of his dragons. Somehow he had a feeling that they were safer.

/\~~/\

 _5 June 1999_

 _Assistant Supply Master Weasley,_

 _Your apology is as adequate as the four Longhorn heartstrings you included at no charge in my last order._

 _I require the following immediately:_

 _3 hind claws, shed not forcibly removed (any breed)  
1 litre Vipertooth venom, unfiltered  
1200 grams thin albumen, powdered (Horntail eggs preferred)_

 _If you prove capable of fulfilling this order without mistakes, I will contact you to negotiate the purchase of some rarer ingredients._

 _Auroleus Hipworth  
Potioneer  
Uilbus 69, Magische Postkantoor  
Amsterdam_

/\~~/\

"Rarer?" Charlie shook his head as he contemplated the shelves in the main storage room. "If you don't think naturally shed hind claws are rare, I can't wait to find out what you think is."

He quickly found the powdered albumen and venom. Securing the jars with Shatterproof and Cushioning Charms, he wrapped them in padded cloth and then nestled them into slots in one of the warded boxes they kept for mailing supplies. Unfortunately, his luck ran out when he reached the bin of hind claws.

Only two claws, each the size of his forearm — from young Welsh Greens, Charlie thought dismissively — were both intact and naturally shed. The rest were either damaged or bore signs of being removed with pliers.

"If you're as much like Snape as you sound, you'll probably sneer at these claws and call them substandard. Since I have to find you another, I might as well just collect three more. From adults."

Picking up his wand from the bench beside him, he activated the map that covered one wall and said, " _Qua Draconis_."

Spellfire bloomed in many colours, including copper, black, bronze, scarlet, blue grey, green, and pearly white, and identified the tagged dragons by location and type. He tapped the map again and again, each time narrowing down his search, until he had identified three recently mated pairs — the best candidates for a naturally shed claw.

Summoning his broom, a grin spreading across his face and adrenaline starting to flow through his veins, Charlie Apparated to the mountainside above the closest pair.

The male Swedish Short Snout was prancing and snapping at the female. The tips of their long, pointed horns brushed as he attempted to circle behind the female. Winning the battle against the other males had obviously not been sufficient to persuade her that he was fit to be her mate.

Charlie kept a careful eye on them as he Disillusioned himself and cast a Scent-Suppression Spell to ensure they could neither see nor smell him. Then he mounted his broom, kicked off, and began to drift down to the valley floor.

A few seconds before he reached the ground, the male Short Snout released a triumphant roar and a burst of brilliant blue flame that seared the trees and bushes around them.

Leaning back on his broom, Charlie watched them fly. He loved to see dragons in the air.

/\~~/\

Charlie bent over, hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. He'd gained a few new bruises while trying to stop the Horntail from taking to the air, but it wasn't anything an application or two of Bruise Paste wouldn't heal.

Still, he'd been lucky. Out of the twelve dragon keepers who'd been fighting to restrain the Horntail, two had had to be sent to the hospital tent. One with minor burns, and another with a broken shoulder. A third had caught the edge of a Stunner that had bounced off its scales and was being levitated back to her quarters.

"It seems wrong to keep them tied to the earth."

"Safer for them that way," Charlie said, straightening up and turning to face Snape. "Too many spell-happy Aurors around here to allow any of these dragons to go free."

Acknowledging Charlie's comment with a quirk of one eyebrow, Snape returned his gaze to the dragons. "You seem to be using up your stores of Calming and Sleeping Draughts at an alarming rate."

"That we are. You offering?"

Snape spun around to face Charlie, moving so quickly that Charlie could feel the passage of air as Snape's robes billowed around his ankles. "I'm sure we can come to an equitable arrangement." Snape smirked. "For high quality, dragon-sourced ingredients, of course."

"Of course." Charlie gave Snape a leisurely and admiring look, from booted feet to brilliantly black eyes. "Any other agreement would be—"

"Unthinkable."

"Whatever you say." Wondering whether Snape's body had been quite that well put together when he'd been a student, Charlie watched him stalk out of the clearing.

/\~~/\

 _1 July 1999_

 _Assistant Supply Master Weasley,_

 _Congratulations on your ability to tell the difference between naturally shed and forcibly removed claws. I assume you paid attention to the flight of the Short Snouts before you harvested their nest._

 _With all due respect, you are the only person at the Dragon Centre who has proven himself capable of completing the simplest of requests without egregious error. I'm sure you have other customers and other orders to fill, and therefore, am fully aware of what I'm asking. However, I'm not an unreasonable man._

 _I am willing to pay a premium of 100 galleons per ingredient to ensure that you personally collect and mail all my orders within the time limit I set. And, trust me, I shall know if anyone else touches my ingredients with magic or otherwise._

 _Auroleus Hipworth  
Potioneer  
Uilbus 69, Magische Postkantoor  
Amsterdam_

/\~~/\

"To say no is not acceptable even if the man is, as you English say, an arse." Bogdan slid a full glass across his desk to Charlie. "The centre cannot be affording to turn down an offer such as this."

"Depending upon how much he orders, I may not be able to work on anything else." A sniff of the glass reassured Charlie that it contained nothing more than Bogdan's homemade vodka.

"I am filling orders before you work here."

"Yeah, I know. I've dealt with some of the complaints."

"Even for English, I can provide best of dragons." Bogdan drained his glass and refilled it. "I am dragon keeper. Pain this causes is," he made a dismissive gesture, " _phhht_."

"And if you don't, I can always take Elena up on her offer and go back to working in the pens full time, leaving you to clean up your own mess." Laughing at the expression of horror on Bogdan's face, Charlie raised his glass in a mocking toast.

Bogdan opened his mouth to respond, but then shook his head and clinked his glass against Charlie's.

They spent the next couple of hours going over the current stock, reviewing the orders they had on hand, and arguing over who would be best to help Bogdan if things got that bad. When it was over, Charlie was tired enough that he grabbed a take-away box from the canteen and headed back to his one-room cabin.

He dropped the box on the small table and pushed the curtains aside to enter his sleeping area. Yawning and stretching, he worked some of the kinks out of his back and shoulders as he undressed. Summer and the increased workload that required all experienced dragon keepers to spend at least some of their time in the mountains couldn't come too soon for him. Just because he was good at dealing with the public didn't mean he enjoyed it.

Charlie made a face at himself in the mirror and ran a hand through his cropped hair. He wasn't going to last much longer behind a desk, and he knew it. If it weren't for Hipworth's demands, and the chance to get out on his broom, he would have packed it in already.

Even Snape had realised that Charlie wouldn't last long if he were trapped inside.

/\~~/\

"The dragons trust you." Snape handed Charlie a large bowl.

"Comes with being a keeper." Charlie dipped his hand into the bowl to test the viscosity of the healing salve and ensure that it didn't contain myrrh, which had a tendency to send Fireballs into convulsions when it got into the bloodstream. As soon as he was satisfied, he ducked under the tie-wires and approached the sedated dragon. "It's not as if I'd be able to get this close if she hadn't been sedated to a fare-thee-well."

"False modesty isn't an attractive trait."

Cursing Viktor Krum and the entire Triwizard Tournament under his breath, Charlie began smoothing salve into the cuts that laced the Fireball's feet. "If we were in Romania, I'd have Krum up on charges for this."

"For minor injuries?" Snape scoffed.

Grief welled up in Charlie, and he glared at Snape. "After destroying her eggs like that? We'll be damn lucky if she lays again. And if we're not—" He sniffed and swiped at his eyes with his forearm before bending back down to focus on his job. "Well, let's just say that none of us are looking forward to dealing with her mate when we get her and her remaining egg back home."

The dragon shifted irritably, flexed her talons, and curled more tightly around her egg. Her movements pulled on the wires that held her down.

"Looks like she's done whether I am or not." After giving her fringe a soothing stroke, Charlie shuffled backwards, careful not to do anything that might awaken the Fireball or any of her neighbours. As soon as he reached the pegs, he stood up.

"I didn't realise dragons were quite so attached to their young."

"Most people don't care enough to find out." Charlie stared down at his sticky hands. "When it comes to family, they aren't much different from humans."

"Allow me." With an expert flick and swish, Snape Banished the bowl and sent a Cleaning Charm skittering over Charlie's skin.

"Dragons're better at letting their kids go when they grow up, though."

"Molly never was very good at subtle."

Charlie managed a wan smile. "It's not just me, then?"

"Do what makes you happy, Charlie Weasley." Snape grimaced, as if remembering an old pain. "Don't let anyone else tie you down to their needs and tell you how to live your life, or you'll end up old and bitter and full of regrets."

"You're not—"

"Don't presume to tell me what I am or am not. You're hardly in a position to know."

"And whose fault is that?" Charlie called after Snape, who was already striding away towards Hogwarts.

To his surprise, Snape reacted to his jibe by pivoting around and storming back. Before Charlie could gather his thoughts and so much as consider what he'd just started, Snape was right in front of him.

"Do you mean that?" The intensity in Snape's voice and eyes sent a jolt of _want_ through Charlie.

He couldn't remember the last time anyone had been that serious about anything to do with him. And this was Snape! Unsure whether he was going completely round the bend or about to get the best thing ever, Charlie gathered the courage that sent him pelting after dragons and snitches. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

An unidentifiable something flared in Snape's eyes. He placed his hands on either side of Charlie's face, tilting his head and holding it in place, and kissed him.

Parting his lips, opening himself up to the tongue that swept imperiously across them, Charlie sank into the kiss. Nerve endings fired as Snape licked, sucked, and nipped. Charlie groaned and slid his arms around Snape's waist, crowding closer, feeling Snape's arousal and rolling his hips into it.

But then Snape jerked back as if he'd been stung, ripping himself out of Charlie's embrace. His hair was dishevelled, his usually neat robes were askew, and he looked almost regretful.

Far from ready to stop when they were only just getting started, Charlie bit back a growl, moved forward, and reached for Snape. Who didn't cooperate. Instead, he backed up further, drew his wand, and began casting Grooming Charms over himself.

"What the—"

Snape placed a finger over Charlie's lips, interrupting him. "If I had a choice," Snape said, brushing his thumb over Charlie's jaw. "But I do not. My presence is required elsewhere."

And with one long step backwards, a turn, and a loud crack, Snape was gone.

Charlie cursed as he adjusted his far too tight jeans and started walking back to his tent. For yet another wank. Maybe lifting the anti-Apparation wards around the dragon pens hadn't been such a great idea. And as for whoever had called Snape away, if he ever discovered who it was, he'd hex the bastard into the next week.

/\~~/\

 _16 July 1999_

 _Assistant Supply Master Weasley,_

 _My first order is simple enough that even you ought to be able to collect the ingredients within my relatively short deadline. I require the following by no later than five days from the date of this letter:_

 _1 ash-stone of no less than 1kg in weight (from the nest of any fire-breathing dragon)  
12 spikes from the fringe of a Chinese Fireball  
4 medium balloons of smoke from a breeding Fireball_

 _Given your reputation and the fact that these can all be obtained from the same dragon, I presume that this task will not tie you down unduly._

 _Auroleus Hipworth  
Potioneer  
Uilbus 69, Magische Postkantoor  
Amsterdam_

/\~~/\

Charlie stood just outside the cave entrance, trying to shake the words "Fireball" and "tie you down" out of his memory long enough to get his mind back on the job at hand. Given Hipworth's requests there really was only one choice at that time of year: the dragon they'd taken to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. She'd been so traumatised by the travel, her injuries, and the loss of her eggs that she went into heat off cycle and, thus, was nesting in July rather than later in the year.

Sheer coincidence, he told himself, placing his broom on the ledge and rapping himself on the crown. The chill of the modified Disillusionment Charm slithered over him, masking his scent and hiding him from the Fireball's keen eyesight. After a moment's thought, he cast another spell to protect his own sense of smell from the smoke, brimstone, and sheer stench of a nesting dragon.

Inside, the Fireball was sleeping sideways with her head and tail facing the entrance and her eggs safely hidden between her body and the wall. A set of ash-stones were stacked around her nest. The tentacle-like spikes of her fringe waved incessantly, indicating that she was on the alert for invaders.

 _One chance_ , Charlie reminded himself as he raised his wand, _and that only because she was asleep_. If he didn't hit her on the tiny bump in the centre of her forehead, he'd have to run for it and try again another day. He took a deep breath, aimed, and called out the incantation.

The stream of dark blue spell light hit the target, and Charlie released a sigh of relief. He flicked his wand again. The set of unbreakable balloons he'd brought flew over to the Fireball and swallowed the last puff of smoke that she released before sinking into a deep, unbreathing, bewitched sleep.

Summoning four ash-stones of varying sizes, he packed them away in the bottom of his rucksack and swaddled them in Cushioning Charms. Then he placed the full balloons on top.

One task left, and he could only hope that he had enough time before the Fireball woke up. Pulling a wide-toothed wooden comb from his pocket, he carefully made his way to the side of her head opposite the eggs. He patted her quiescent fringe. The spikes were soft, warm, and rubbery.

Combing her fringe was soothing. He was careful with the few tangles and Banished the occasional insect carapace or other bit of debris that had become caught. Each time a spike came loose, he paused to untwist it from the teeth and tuck it into an envelope. Then he started again.

He became so immersed in the rhythmic movements that he lost track of time. Until he was back at the beginning, running the comb through the spiky fringe above her right eye, and he felt a rumble go through her and a shiver run over her hide. His heart almost stopping in shock, he looked down. Into a huge, protruding eye.

The Fireball blinked. Her eyelid rose and fell with excruciating slowness. Then she butted him in the chest with what he supposed was gentleness to the dragon and settled her head back onto her forelegs. The hint was clear — _don't stop_ — and so he returned to grooming her.

Adrenaline sent tremors through his hands, and a painful excitement clenched in his chest. To be this close, to be touching a dragon with her full knowledge and consent — it was better than almost anything else he could imagine.

/\~~/\

As soon as he saw Snape standing at the edge of the clearing, Charlie motioned to Jiandari. The journeyman dragon keeper took Charlie's place, checking the built-in levitation charms on one corner of the Fireball's cage.

For a moment, just before he strolled over to Snape, Charlie considered straightening his clothing and using a Grooming Spell or two, but there didn't seem to be much point. After two weeks of sex in the woods and, occasionally, in the cabin Charlie shared with three other dragon keepers, Snape had to be used to taking Charlie as he came. The question though, at least for Charlie, was whether Snape was as interested in continuing as he was.

"You just caught me," Charlie said, stopping in front of Snape. "We're leaving the minute the dragons are ready. The train that's taking us to the coast is waiting at the station."

"You'll need this." Snape's voice was flat, almost emotionless, as he handed Charlie an enormous flagon, but the slight quiver of his fingers betrayed him.

Charlie wrapped his own, warmer hand around Snape's chilled one. "Thank you."

Removing his hand from Charlie's, Snape directed a curt nod at the Fireball in her crate. "This Tranquilising Potion can be absorbed through any part of the hide that is not covered with scales. If you can manage to get it into the corner of a dragon's eyes, it takes effect in seconds. Other areas take slightly longer, depending upon the thickness of the hide."

When Snape started to turn, Charlie decided it was then or never. He gathered all of his courage, put the flagon on a nearby tree stump, and said, "Don't."

Snape's nostrils flared, and his lip curled into a sneer.

Charlie caught his sleeve. "It's not that far from here to Romania as the Portkey spins."

"Do you mind?" With a swift tug, Snape yanked his arm free and took a step back.

Charlie moved forwards. "Should I say that I do mind?" He matched Snape step for step until he had him up against a tree. He rested his hands on either side of Snape's head, bracing himself, and leaned in until their faces were bare inches apart.

"Is that what you want? _Severus_." He said the name for the first time, with deliberation, savouring each syllable and sibilant. "Shall I simply leave? Walk away without looking back and leave you to immure yourself in your dungeons once again?"

"What I want is irrelevant. As usual."

"Only if you keep it to yourself." Charlie stared into Snape's black eyes and hoped that Snape understood the risk he was taking, the trust he was offering by doing so.

"It's my fault," Snape said. "Taking up with a Gryffindor."

"That bad, is it?"

Silence fell between them, punctuated by the noises made by the dragon keepers assigned to transport the cages to the train. As Charlie held Snape's gaze, Snape seemed to close in on himself, and Charlie's heart sunk. It really was over, he realised, and nothing he'd said had changed it.

"Stay safe," Charlie said, his voice oddly husky. Then he pushed himself away, allowing the tips of his fingers to trail across Snape's hair and cheek in farewell.

He made it a couple of feet away when a snarl of frustration came from behind him.

"Dunderheads, the lot of you."

An arm snaked around Charlie's chest, and he was hauled backwards and pressed against Snape. He let his head fall against Snape's shoulder, and Snape murmured in his ear.

"You'd better be serious. I do nothing lightly."

An image of Snape's mantelpiece floated into Charlie's mind, along with the black-framed picture of Lily Potter and the narrow vase with a single fire lily that stood beside it. In that instant, he was sure that he'd just made a big mistake. "I'm not—"

"That is true." Snape pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin beneath Charlie's ear. "Nonetheless, I find myself in a conundrum. I had expected my first to be my only. But now I have you, and you simply refuse to act like anyone else."

Charlie shrugged and swallowed down the vicious hope that rose inside him. "I'm not much cop at the usual."

"Quite."

They stood like that, oblivious to the clamour that came from the last of the dragons and dragon keepers leaving the clearing. Jiandari paused at the edge and looked back, giving Charlie a wave before walking away.

When they were alone, Snape's embrace became possessive, and he ground out, "I do not share."

"Good." The single word was all that Charlie could manage as Snape bit the curve of his neck and shoulder. _Claimed_ , he realised and found himself hoping again.

Snape spun him around and shoved him towards the tree. His cock hard and erect, trapped inside his dragonhide trousers, Charlie's movements were awkward instead of graceful, but he could feel the intensity of Snape's eyes upon him and that was all that mattered.

The button of Charlie's trousers popped open, and his zip moved down, following the press and slide of Snape's hand on Charlie's cock.

"Ngh." Charlie groaned, looking down so he could watch as Snape dug his fingers into Charlie's perineum. Charlie's hips juddered, small staccato movements that almost had him coming in Snape's hand when his trousers were pushed down his legs to pool at his ankles, and his cock was touching bare skin.

A quietly muttered spell unbuttoned Snape's clothing, and he pressed his cock into the cleft of Charlie's arse.

Another incoherent noise escaped from Charlie, and he adjusted his stance to make it easier to roll his hips back and forth between Snape's hand and cock. "You could," he panted, "move your arse."

"No lube," Snape mused, cupping Charlie's bollocks, keeping his fingers on Charlie's perineum and resting the heel of his hand against the base of Charlie's cock, holding him still. "Aren't dragon keepers supposed to be like boy scouts?"

"Whatever kind of boys those are, and I really don't care. Fuck me."

"Not without lube."

"Bastard." Throwing all concerns about the hold Snape had on him to one side, Charlie began to move. He raised his hips as much as he could, catching the head of Snape's cock and smearing precome over his own skin as his arse rose and fell. He kept that up until Snape's grip had tightened, becoming almost painful, and Snape slid easily in his cleft.

And yet, Charlie wanted more, damn it. He needed to feel, to be sure that right then, in that time and that place, he was enough for Snape. Letting go of the tree, he arched back against Snape, trusting him to catch him and to balance him, and he rested his head against Snape's shoulder, baring his neck.

"Fuck me," Charlie repeated. "Let me take you with me."

The growl that came out of Snape nearly had Charlie's knees buckling, but Snape held him in place with one hand gripping Charlie's hip. He pulled back and thrust his cock into Charlie's cleft, dragging the head over the tight muscles protecting his hole, and then between Charlie's thighs. Over and over, faster and faster. As he squeezed, pulled, and tugged at Charlie's cock.

His muscles tightening, his cock hardening, Charlie reached back and clutched the top of Snape's thigh with one hand and wrapped his other arm around Snape's neck, opening himself up and losing himself in Snape's touch. In the sensations, the desire, the arousal that gathered in his cock and belly and rocked through him.

Until Snape muttered, "Now," and bit down on his neck, and Charlie was coming even as he felt the pulsing of Snape's release.

Charlie sank with Snape to the ground, straddling his thighs and kissing him deeply. "There's summer," he said, "and school holidays. We'll find time."

"We'll make time," Snape corrected him, "as long as you're willing."

/\~~/\

 _12 September 1999_

 _Assistant Supply Master Weasley,_

 _My potion is reaching a critical stage, and I must receive delivery of this order by no later than 15 September. I assume that you continue to be willing to make time for me and I will not be required to share your services until such time as you have gathered everything listed below._

 _12 eyelashes (any dragon breed is acceptable)  
1 horn from the tail of a Hungarian Horntail  
48 ml dragon milk from a Common Welsh Green_

 _Do not disappoint me further._

 _Auroleus Hipworth  
Potioneer  
Uilbus 69, Magische Postkantoor  
Amsterdam_

/\~~/\

"Further?" Charlie tossed the letter on his desk and strode over to the window, glass of vodka in hand. "What in buggery are you on about? It's not as though you've given any indication of being disappointed so far."

He tossed back the drink and sent the glass smashing into the fireplace. Clenching his hands into fists, he stared at the shards that filled his hearth and wished for another dozen glasses to do the same.

"Are you intending to drive me mad? Or is that just a common side-effect of being an accomplished Potioneer?"

"Charlie?"

Bogdan's voice had Charlie spinning around and reaching for his wand. Bogdan made a tutting noise and shook his head. "You are either needing holiday or more vodka."

"What I need is a less demanding Potioneer," Charlie snapped. _Or a more demanding one_ — the words were in Charlie's mind before he could stop them, along with the ache that he'd been living with since Snape's funeral. And all for a man who he still thought of by his last name. He slammed his fist into the window frame.

"Holiday," Bogdan said. "You take off next two days and then we talk."

"I've only just come back."

"You tell me that was holiday?" Bogdan sounded incredulous.

Charlie couldn't argue that, but he also couldn't imagine spending days sitting around trying not to think of Severus Snape and everything he didn't have. Something that felt almost like panic jolted through him at the idea. "Hipworth sent another order. I don't have time for a holiday."

"He demands very strange things, that man. Even for all the money he gives. I do not know we should continue."

"I thought we couldn't afford to turn him down." Returning to his desk, Charlie folded the letter carefully, put it away in his back pocket, and picked up his rucksack and broom. "At the last staff meeting, Lupescu was talking about being forced to make reductions."

"Even for money, some things cannot be sacrificed."

"Everything and everyone can be sacrificed for the right cause," said Charlie, a bitter taste in his mouth. Then, before Bogdan could attempt to mollify him, as he was clearly about to do, Charlie Disapparated and allowed the loud _Crack!_ to speak for him.

/\~~/\

The gravestone was black granite. It bore neither a design nor a simpering sentiment. Just a name, a pair of dates, and the shimmer from an uncountable number of protective charms and anti-vandalism spells.

Trusting in Kingsley and Bill's reassurances that he'd be left alone, Charlie knelt beside it. He pulled out the flagon that he'd had sent from his cottage in Romania and ran his fingers over the yellowing label. Spidery script in green ink named the potion that had once filled the container, provided instructions on its use and storage, and noted its expiry date.

They'd been lovers for years, and yet the flagon was his only memento of Severus Snape. How utterly sad and appropriate was that? Releasing a sigh, he used his wand to create a hollow in the soil beneath the inscription and set the flagon into it. Another charm cemented it in place and ensured no one would be able to remove it.

He poured water into the opening from the end of his wand. Then he retrieved the two flowers he'd brought with him and placed them inside. A fire lily, because Snape had always kept one on his mantel, and a snapping dragon for himself.

"Fucking bastard," he said, sitting back on his heels and crossing his arms over his chest, hugging his wand. "You said you were too old and too mean to die. I was holding you to that."

Charlie bowed his head, squeezed his eyes shut, and let his memories come. He was still there, hours later, when Bill came to take him back to the Burrow.

/\~~/\

 _18 September 1999_

 _Assistant Supply Master Weasley,_

 _You're a dunderhead!_

 _I'd wash my hands of you; however, I am apparently as incapable of doing that as you are of interpreting the most obvious of clues._

 _S_

/\~~/\

Charlie barely had enough time to register his astonishment and the fact that his jaw had dropped open before the familiar hooking sensation of a Portkey caught him behind the navel. His last thought before it whisked him away was that Snape damn well better have a good explanation.

/\~~/\

The instant Charlie landed, he pulled out his wand and spun around. The walls were floor to ceiling bookcases, with shelves above and below the windows and all around the fireplace, and so familiar after long days and nights spent in Snape's rooms at Hogwarts that Charlie wanted to break something.

Snape himself was sitting in one of the two armchairs in front of the fire. Despite his voluminous robes, he looked thinner than he had even in the last year of the war. His hair had developed a thick white streak over his left ear, and his face was even sallower and had lines that Charlie didn't remember seeing before.

For what felt like forever, Charlie stared at him, expecting something. Not an apology, or a sarcastic comment on his deductive abilities. Just something other than Snape sitting there and watching him. Silently.

An unnameable emotion crashed through Charlie. Neither fear nor hope, not anger or joy, and yet all those and more. He crumpled up the letter that was still in his hand and threw it at Snape's feet.

"Guess I know what I'm worth," he said bitterly. "A few pieces of parchment sent more than a year too late."

His expression giving nothing away, Snape glanced down at the letter and then back up. For a moment, Charlie thought he wasn't going to respond at all, but then he beckoned Charlie closer.

 _No_! The refusal vibrated through Charlie's mind. After all this time, without anything like an explanation, he was not about to—

Except he was. Without even thinking about it, he was moving towards Snape, being drawn into those dark eyes, one step at a time. Until Snape wrinkled his nose, and Charlie remembered how he got there.

"Dragon dung not good enough for you?" Charlie blurted out. Then, he ducked his head, breaking the hold that Snape seemed to have on him, and clenched his fists against the urge to lash out, to hex, to curse, to land a damn satisfying punch. The kind of punch that would shatter someone who looked as fragile as Snape did right then.

Growling in frustrated anger, he turned around and stomped over to fling open the door. A small neat garden greeted him, with a path that led directly to an unfenced cliff edge. The wind blew around him, tousling his hair, sneaking cold tendrils down the back of his jumper, sending colourful leaves dancing, and surrounding him with the scent of salt and fish.

He walked away from the house, needing to be somewhere else but not quite ready to Disapparate. Dark clouds gathered in the far distance. Waves crashed against the rocks below him — far enough away that he could feel the dampness in the air, but not the spume on his skin.

At the end of the path, he could sense the wards that crackled and shimmered along the edge and prevented anyone from falling over. Toppling over. Jumping over.

That last thought brought him up short and doused his anger. He reached out and laid his hand against the wards. The magic curled around him, swaddled him, lifted him, and gently placed him on the path several feet closer to the house.

"Harry insisted on them," said Snape from behind him. His voice was rusty, as if he hadn't spoken in a while. "Apparently, trust means very little to him."

The pain of yet another betrayal stabbed through Charlie, but he kept his head high and his eyes on the horizon. When he finally found something to say, his voice sounded almost unrecognisable. "Harry knew?"

"That I was alive, yes." Something clicked on the flagstones in counterpoint to Snape's slow steps. "That you and I had been... together? He didn't know, and I didn't inform him."

"Why?" The question was torn from Charlie, flung over the water by the wind.

"I invoked every life debt he owed me, forced him and Poppy to swear Unbreakable Vows not to reveal my survival until I gave them leave."

Charlie could feel Snape at his back, but he refused to turn around. Even when Snape grasped his bicep.

After a long moment of silence, Snape said, "I won't apologise for not allowing him to contact you."

"You? Apologise?" Charlie nearly choked. "Please don't. I'm not quite ready for the world to end."

Snape's huff was as close to laughter as Charlie had ever heard from him. "I'll try to remember that."

Before he could change his mind, Charlie reached up and placed his hand over top of Snape's. He moved his gaze down, focussing on the daisies at his feet. When Snape didn't respond, he admitted, "I can't decide whether I want to kill you or kiss you."

"I'd understand if you killed me, but Poppy might have something to say to you after spending so many months trying to heal me."

A shudder ran through Charlie. "I do not want to ever get on the wrong side of that woman."

This time the silence was comfortable and familiar enough that Charlie found himself turning around. He caught a glimpse of Snape's expression before his lip curled up in a sneer that appeared more defensive than anything else and wiped away the haunting insecurity.

Charlie lifted his hand, intending to touch Snape's face, but let it fall away instead. "I don't know," he said, not able to finish that sentence.

The wind picked up, gusting around them, and Snape tightened his grip on Charlie's arm and shivered. This time when Charlie reached out, he noticed the cane in Snape's right hand, and every one of his tangled emotions was swept away except worry. "You're hurt," he said, and then wanted to take the words back.

"Brilliant observation. And about as accurate as your potions used to be. I was hurt. According to Poppy, I'm well on my way to making lives miserable again."

"And, so, you contacted me?"

"Quite." Snape's mouth twitched into a smile. "Shall we go inside, and get you in the bath?"

"Bath?"

Wrinkling his nose, Snape said, "I don't mind the burns or the clothes that come with dragon keeping, but I can definitely live without the stink of dung."

Charlie grinned. "And potions smell brilliant, I suppose."

"Hardly." Snape smirked. "But that's why Merlin invented magical bathtubs."

Charlie bent his elbow, and Snape tucked his hand into the crook. Their walk back to the cottage was slow and steady, and for the first time in years, Charlie was able to hope without pain.

/\~~/\

 _2 February 2001_

 _Supply Master Macek,_

 _Whilst I appreciate your desire to ensure that I have the requisite ingredients to fulfil my orders, sending my partner out into the middle of the worst snowstorm this part of Romania has seen in decades is hardly the way to do it._

 _Charlie will not be returning to work until I deem his frostbitten extremities and walking pneumonia are sufficiently cured._

 _Severus Snape  
Potions Master,  
Romanian Dragon Centre_

/\~~/\

"You want me to take two weeks off? For a bit of frostbite and a touch of chest cold that you've already cured?" Charlie grinned. "Even my mother wouldn't believe that. Especially with you taking care of me."

"Macek got off easy, and he knows it. As for you—" Severus harrumphed as he bent over the oversized bathtub to add the potions he'd spent the previous day brewing.

"I'm a dunderheaded Gryffindor who doesn't know the meaning of the word _no_ ," Charlie finished for him. When Severus straightened up, Charlie moved in behind him, slid his arms around his waist, and rested his cheek between Severus's shoulder blades. "My fingertips are fine."

"Now," Severus interjected.

Charlie kissed the nape of Severus's neck. "And my lungs are perfectly clear."

"Now."

"I'm sorry I worried you."

"You didn't _worry_ me." Severus began to pull away from Charlie, who let go of him reluctantly. "You interrupted a strict brewing schedule that will take me at least a week to replicate. I believe I'm perfectly justified in taking a little of my annoyance out of Macek's hide, self-aggrandising little twerp that he is. If he didn't make such damned good vodka..."

Accepting Severus's hand, Charlie stepped into the bath after him and straddled his legs. He smoothed his thumbs over the deep vertical crease between Severus's brows and then brushed his lips over it. "I'm sorry. For interrupting you. For making you take time out of your extremely busy schedule to look after an idiot who doesn't know any better than to fly into a blizzard."

"Don't." Severus took Charlie's hands and sucked lightly on each of his fingertips. "Just make sure you use these well."

"I will." Charlie cradled Severus's face and kissed him, tracing Severus's lips with his tongue and sucking on his lower lip. "It's time that I took care of you, after all."

Severus groaned. "Do be quiet. Lines like that only prove that talking's not your forte."

"Never claimed it was."

A twitch of Charlie's hips elicited another groan from Severus, this one far deeper and more heartfelt. He began lavishing open-mouthed kisses on Severus's jaw and throat, avoiding the numb skin over the bite scars, and ran his hands over every part of Severus's torso he could reach. Encouraging him, reassuring him.

"So good," murmured Charlie, glancing down between them. Severus's nipples were just below the surface of the water. He licked his lips, but changed his mind. The last time he'd tried sucking on them in the bathtub, he'd ended up with water up his nose. Definitely not something he wanted to try again.

Fingers instead, he decided, and caught one nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He watched Severus as he rolled and tweaked. When Severus's eyelids hooded his eyes and the sharpness of his gaze was blunted by a sheen of desire, Charlie used his free hand to pinch the other nipple.

Severus's body jolted, sending a wave of water up to the edge of the bath.

 _Definitely need to do better_ , Charlie thought. He skimmed his hands down Severus's chest and stomach, testing the slickness added to the water by the potions. He wrapped his hands around both of their cocks and tugged, feeling his own harden that much more when the movement caused Severus to lean his head back against the rim and thrust his hips upwards.

"What do you want?"

Severus shifted until he had one leg out from under Charlie and hooked it over the side of the bath. "A Gryffindor who keeps his word."

"Lube?"

"On the shelf." Severus bucked up into Charlie's hand again, sliding their cocks together. "And move fast before it washes off your skin."

Leaning forward, grinding his body against Severus's and getting an affectionate bite on his chest in appreciation, Charlie placed one hand on the edge and scooped out lube with his other. Then, kneeling once again, he reached down and went to press two fingers inside Severus. Only to find Severus casting the spell that loosened and prepared him.

"Damn," Charlie muttered appreciatively.

Quirking an eyebrow at him, Severus said, "Well, it has been almost a week. I'm in no mood to put up with one of your slow seductions."

Almost breathless with the need that was sending a tingling ache through him, Charlie asked, "What do you want then?"

Water sloshed onto the floor as Severus placed his hand in the centre of Charlie's chest and sent him skidding backwards to end up against the opposite side of the bath.

Severus unhooked his leg and stood up. Water streamed down his skin, his cock bobbed in the air, and Charlie's mouth dried in anticipation.

Before Charlie could ask which position he should take, Severus crouched, grabbed his cock, and sank onto it.

"You bloody brilliant bastard." Charlie seized Severus's hips and steadied him, encouraged him to move.

And move Severus did. Up and down, rolling forward and sideways, holding onto Charlie's shoulders, and every time Charlie's cock grazed over Severus's prostate, Charlie groaned and pulled on Severus's cock. Again and again, spinning him higher and higher, winding him tighter and tighter.

"Can't," Charlie managed when he was riding the edge, ready to explode, squeezing and tugging on Severus, and pushing into him in uncontrolled jerking movements. "Please."

In answer, Severus rose almost high enough to let Charlie slip out, then slammed back down and clenched his arse muscles around Charlie's cock. Water erupted around them as first Charlie came and then Severus pumped his own release into the bath.

They lay there for a few seconds. Severus rested against Charlie's chest, and Charlie held him close until Severus pushed away enough to look at Charlie.

"I believe," Severus said, smirking at him, "that two weeks should be just enough to ensure you're in complete working order."

Charlie grinned at him, warmth and affection flooding through him. "Can't argue with that, can I?" Curling his hand around Severus's neck, he sat up and kissed him hard, sending one last wave of water over the edge of the bath.


End file.
